Tarfe's Truce

"Oho, ye Catholic cavaliers
Who eye Granada day and night,
On whose left shoulder is the cross,
The crimson cross, your blazon bright.

"If e'er your youthful hearts have felt
The flame of love that brings delight,
As angry Mars, in coat of steel,
Feels the fierce ardor of the fight;

"If 'tis your will, within our walls,
To join the joust, with loaded reed,
As ye were wont, beneath these towers
The bloody lance of war to speed;

"If bloodless tumult in the square
May serve instead of battle's fray,
And, donning now the silken cloak,
Ye put the coat of steel away;

"Six troops of Saracens are here;
Six Christian troops, with targe and steed
Be ready, when the day is fixed,
To join the jousting of the reed.

"For 'tis not right that furious war,
Which sets the city's roofs in flames,
Should kindle with a fruitless fire
The tender bosom of our dames.

"In spite of all we suffer here
Our ladies are with you arrayed,
They pity you in this fierce war,
This labor of the long blockade.

"Amid the hardships of the siege
Let pleasure yield a respite brief;
(For war must ever have its truce)
And give our hardships some relief.

"What solace to the war-worn frame,
To every soul what blest release,
To fling aside the targe and mail,
And don one hour the plumes of peace!

"And he who shall the victor be
Among the jousters of the game,
I pledge my knightly word to him,
In token of his valorous fame,

"On his right arm myself to bind
The favor of my lady bright;
'Twas given me by her own white hand,
The hand as fair as it is white."

'Twas thus that Tarfe, valiant Moor,
His proclamation wrote at large;
He, King Darraja's favored squire,
Has nailed the cartel to his targe.

'Twas on the day the truce was made,
By Calatrava's master bold,
To change the quarters of his camp,
And with his foes a conference hold.

Six Moorish striplings Tarfe sent
In bold Abencerraje's train--
His kindred both in race and house--
To meet the leaguers on the plain.

In every tent was welcome warm;
And when their challenge they display,
The master granted their request
To join the joust on Easter day.

In courteous words that cartel bold
He answered; and a cavalcade
Of Christians, with the Moorish guards,
Their journey to Granada made.

The guise of war at once was dropped;
The armory closed its iron door;
And all put on the damask robes
That at high festival they wore.

The Moorish youths and maidens crowd,
With joyful face, the city square;
These mount their steeds, those sit and braid
Bright favors for their knights to wear.

Those stern antagonists in war,
Like friends, within the town are met;
And peacefully they grasp the hand,
And for one day the past forget.

And gallant Almarada comes
(Not Tarfe's self more brave, I ween),
Lord of a lovely Moorish dame,
Who rules her lover like a queen.

A hundred thousand favors she
In public or in private gives,
To show her lover that her life
Is Almarada's while she lives!

And once upon a cloudy night,
Fit curtain for his amorous mood,
The gallant Moor the high hills scaled
And on Alhambra's terrace stood.

Arrived, he saw a Moorish maid
Stand at a window opened wide;
He gave her many a precious gem;
He gave her many a gift beside.

He spoke and said: "My lady fair,
Though I have never wronged him, still
Darraja stands upon the watch,
By fair or foul, to do me ill.

"Those eyes of thine, which hold more hearts
Than are the stars that heaven displays;
That slay more Moors with shafts of love
Than with his sword the master slays;

"When will they soften at my smile?
And when wilt thou, my love, relent?
Let Tarfe go, whose words are big,
While his sword-arm is impotent!

"Thou seest I am not such as he;
His haughty words, so seldom true,
Are filled with boasting; what he boasts
This sturdy arm of mine can do.

"My arm, my lance, ah! well 'tis known
How oft in battle's darkest hour
They saved Granada's city proud
From yielding to the Christian's power."

Thus amorous Almarada spoke
When Tarfe came and caught the word;
And as his ear the message seized,
His right hand seized upon his sword.

Yet did he deem some Christian troop
Was in the darkness hovering by;
And at the thought, with terror struck,
He turned in eager haste to fly!

Darraja roused him at the din;
And with loud voice to Tarfe spoke;
He knew him from his cloak of blue,
For he had given the Moor that cloak!